


According to Plan

by ineedthislikeaholeinthehead



Category: American Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Blow Job, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fingering, First Times, Fluff, M/M, MFF threesome, MMF threesome, Multi, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:17:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3465650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineedthislikeaholeinthehead/pseuds/ineedthislikeaholeinthehead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things don't go according to plan, and Richard Armitage is definitely messing with the plan!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for Wattpad- but I wanted to cross post so I have everything I'm writing in the same place. 
> 
> That being said, I don't actually know where this story fits. I tried very hard to make it a happy little story about Richard, but things got... Complicated.
> 
> If you can bear with the first chapter, it does get more interesting! 
> 
> For any one who wants to skip ahead- the porn chapters are:
> 
> Chapter 3 (MFF threesome)  
> Chapter 8 (MF)  
> Chapter 11 (MMF threesome)
> 
> Also- the usual disclaimers apply. Richard Armitage is his own person and everything written here is total fiction.

Things don't always go as planned. 

You're trying to learn that; to truly accept that it was OK for everything to not be perfect. You want to move past your break up, but it's still too new, too fresh, too painful.

You'd known it was over for months. But both of you had been afraid. Afraid of the promises you'd made- and hopeful that the day would come when those early feelings- the heart racing passion, the pledges of love, the deep understanding and communication that had been there- would come back.

What had changed? Why did it feel like every night, you two were slipping further and further apart? 

Why did the sex get worse, then less frequent, then stop? Why did the chaste kisses hurt more than no kisses at all? Why did you sometimes wake up with an arm around your waist feeling more like a shackle than a loving gesture? 

And despite knowing that this was happening, why were you surprised to find a strange woman in bed with your lover?

Sad things can only turn more sour; when you ignore the problems, they fester. While you like to think that you would never do what had been done to you, you also know your fear had been part of what let it happen.

And as hard as it was- dividing up the life you two had created into boxes- the apologies they provided and the forced forgiveness you gave, the apartment you had decided to keep felt as empty as your heart.

You wondered how long you would feel this hollow. How many more days would you wake up, forgetting that you were alone in a bed that now felt too vast, a sea you'd been cast out into in a leaky life raft? You wondered if you would ever recover, if you would ever start sailing again.

But you went through the motions of life, however zombie like you felt. 

The long work hours you used to fight over are a solace now. You dive into extra work, take on projects you never could have had time for if you were required home, you try things that you never thought you'd be good at, because you have nothing to lose, and, lo and behold, you're getting noticed for it.

An opportunity you never imagined for yourself falls into your lap. It means 6 weeks away from your empty, lonely apartment. 6 weeks away from "concerned" friends all trying to set you up with some one new, all meaning well and just hoping that you'll get back out there. It's six weeks where you won't have to worry about accidentally bumping into your fabulously happy former lover and their new girl- the beautiful one that you'd seen too much of on the emerald sheets that had been given up in the break up- the sheets that had been your favorite before that day.

And six more weeks sounds like a perfect amount of time to get over everything. Six weeks away is perfect, and paying the bills is perfect too, and so you pack up for your first international work trip.  
\---------------  
It's only Canada. But you've never had an excuse to go before, and now your ticket is bought and paid for, and you arrive at the airport and catch a taxi and you're welcomed into the studio company like a friend.

You're not an actress or a producer, strictly below the lines craft worker. But the atmosphere of the show is familiar. 

Some people are company men (there are some women, mostly in the wardrobe and makeup departments.) But most are contract workers like you. It reminds you of theater camp- a bunch of creative people spending days working hard, and you can only assume, nights drinking harder.

You are the only girl in the sound department- the excuse that's always used is that it's harder for girls to boom- not that you've had any problems- you're tall- and have the added bonus of not being afraid to wear heels to gain more leverage if you need to hold the deceptively heavy microphone over an especially tall cast member. 

You've inspired more than a few coworkers to suck up their masculinity issues and throw on- if not the sequined or flowery heels you've been known to wear, at least pumps, when needed.

But you aren't here to hold the long boom mic. You're here to put body packs on actors, mix their sound, and make sure their well crafted delivery is captured correctly.

Since that means hiding mics in costumes, you attempt to become friends with wardrobe as much as possible. Sitting with them at lunch, smiling through their gossip, and attempting to crack a few jokes when possible. They are as cordial as possible, though you can tell they sense something off about you- and you have a sneaking suspicion what they think. 

The first week goes by quickly. It's hard work, and it's long hours, but you're good at it, and you're happy to have the convenience of those hours- the excuse to go from work straight to a local favorite bar before having to retire to the characterless hotel room where thin walls remind you how many of your coworkers are not alone, like you.

The second week brings excitement- stunt actors and guest characters are the life force of the crew gossipers. 

Regulars know better than to cross the line between fraternizing with the crew- If you fuck on set, you're supposed to stay with "your own."  
Actors, directors and producers on one side, everyone else with each other on the end. Mixing is a naughty no-no, but occasionally, a make up girl is flirtatious enough (and the location is cut off enough) that the less permanent cast members are willing to take the risk and become the company gossip for a few weeks before they move on to something (and some one) new.

You've seen it happen before- it never turns out well for the the girl- who only gets a few weeks of fun for all the trouble and teasing she'll take afterwards- always convinced that she's the exception to the rule; that her tryst will end up meaning something more, that she will mean more to the pretty boy who is just slumming with her. 

But this week's new arrival is such a big deal, even the girls on set who have been burned before forget the consequences and start scheming ways to get a few minutes alone with Richard Armitage.

It's not "just" Richard Armitage though. They never say it with out a wispy voice, their eyes starry at the thought of the handsome, dreamy Englishman. 

You want to roll your eyes. 

Of course he is pretty and talented. But being English has never been enough to make you swoon- you've been to England, and you know there are just as many duds there as there are in America, or Canada.

You end up one of the three "lucky" girls on set who are in the enviable place of getting paid to touch him. 

You're led to his trailer by a harried looking assistant with a bullshit fake title of associate producer. 

The "wardrobe assistant" with you is actually a legitimate seamstress and costume designer- and you know she pulled rank to be here, and the make up artist is a sweet girl who's used her extensive talents on herself for this meeting. 

You feel like you might have helped her look even better by comparison- showing up in what's become your own personal uniform- black jeans, tank top, no makeup,  
no-nonsense pony tail, heavy work boots that do nothing to hide how big your feet are but have proven useful in many a tricky situation, and the utility belt filled with everything your profession requires for this sort of meeting.

The "associate producer" introduces you three to Richard, and the other two take a silent second to fight for dominance over their personal introductions while you absent mindedly stare at your chipped nail polish.

"So nice to meet you." The seamstress extends her hand towards Richard, who smiles tenderly as he takes it. "I'll be personally altering all of your wardrobe. And I'm available for any alterations, day or night." She says, not in the least bit subtly.

Make up goes next, smiling widely, but at least managing to limit herself to acting professional. She warns him that his make up is going to be intense. Nothing he wasn't used to, he reminds her, and she blushes. You're almost pulling for her, she's so sweetly smitten by him. 

Then it was your turn to speak. You didn't need a handshake- your life was complete with out a story of touching Thorin Oakenshield- but as you introduced yourself, name and department only, he extends his hand and you feel compelled to take it, if only not to seem rude- a problem you may be guilty of from time to time. 

"Television takes a bit different approach than film when it comes to sound design and recording." You warn him.

"Oh, I know. I've done TV before. Grew up in it, really. Top priority, Ma'am." He says, still holding your hand and smiling. And inspite of yourself, you smile back. 

God damn those acting boys who think that their pretty eyes and flattery will get them everything. 

You pull your hand back a bit too abruptly. Good. Better not to let him think he's going to get away with any flirting with you. You're too busy to let make up and costume think you want to be part of their little competition.

"Every one thinks their department is top priority. Just happens mine actually is this case." You tell him. "You're primarily scheduled to be micced- not boomed. So I just need to know if you've got any adhesive allergies."

"Not to my knowledge, and I've been micced quite a bit before."

Make up interjects- "God, with such fair skin, you're lucky it's not too sensitive." She tells him, putting her hand on his cheek for just the appropriate second. The seamstress adds "Of course, most of the time, we'll be able to hide it in costume. So you won't have to have any wires right up against you." She says, getting right up against him herself.

That wasn't true, but you don't care to correct her, Richard will find out on his own time.

"They always say that." He says, laughing, while looking at you knowingly.

You feign an appointment elsewhere and go back to your gear room-promising that you're available for questions, but not at all feeling the need to witness the antics starting between wardrobe and make up.

An hour later, you're happily tinkering with something when make up comes by. At first, she pretends to be lost, but it's obvious she's looking for you.

"I feel like we haven't gotten to properly meet. I'm Becky." She says, extending her hand- and it's much more direct than the first time you two were introduced the week before. You were used to being invisible until needed though, so you simply tell her your name and continue on with your work.

"It was quite a rush meeting Richard today, wasn't it?" She asks. You shrug. "Seems like a nice enough guy." You reply. She isn't going anywhere, so you put down your tools and wait.

"You want to talk about it?" You begrudgingly ask. She doesn't notice the boredom in your voice, and starts gushing about how amazing he is- a "real" performer (apparently Becky was a pretty good actress in high school, and that qualifies her to know) a shooting star, on the verge of becoming a superstar, yet so devoted to his craft that he'd taken this job because the character was so intense. 

You were proud to be working here too- even if it was just a contract job, the prestige was something that looked good on a resume, and you knew it would get you in the door to bigger gigs. But just because he'd been hired doesn't mean he was going to deliver. 

And you knew your recent experiences had made you even more cynical and skeptical of everything. Richard had a good track record, apparently, and a lot of promise. But you knew exactly how easy it was for promises to be broken. 

You wished Becky had something better to do- you wanted to sit down and focus on your job, not muse on things higher than your pay grade. 

Becky might not want to admit it, but no one cared what they thought, so why go around wasting words on it?

She was young though. Even if she didn't have perfect make up on, you could tell from her words and her eyes how utterly young and naive she was. And it hurt you to think about all the different scenarios that could play out between her and Richard. 

It would be hard if something didn't happen between them- she was pretty, but the sort of pretty that needed constant reassurance. And you couldnt help but reenforce that when she stopped analyzing the meeting for a second to ask you if you'd seen the way Richard had looked at her.

There was no way any one wouldn't look at her, and if nothing came of it, Becky would be crushed. 

But you worried about anything coming of it too. Becky had obviously not been part of this game before. And you didn't have the heart to tell her stories now. 

Not that it mattered. 5 weeks on set, or 3 years together, the time of the relationship doesn't always make a heartbreak any easier or harder, you knew.

She finally exhausted herself and made up an excuse to leave. You picked up your tools, but before you could resume she popped back in the room.

"We're going to a new bar tonight. Wanna come?"

You shrug. The bar the grips and camera department usually went to had cheap drinks, which was good for you, since lately you'd been needing more and more of them to get to sleep at night.

"Oh, come on. I bet you haven't dressed up in ages." She prodded. And she was right. There wasn't a reason to attempt to fold yourself into the clothes and make up that made you look like a desirable girl but always made you feel like a fraud.

"It'll be fun." She promised, and while you knew it wouldn't be, you decided to acquiesce anyways. In an attempt at friendship.

 

Shit faced and stumbling back to your hotel room- the only lonely heart of the night yet again, you wanted to curse Becky and her deceptively strong Long Island iced teas, her bubbly giggling, and her endless dancing. But you forgive her the next morning when she stops by your hotel room with coffee and greasy breakfast. 

She looks fantastic, because she's barely 20 and can't look any other way, but also because she never leaves the house before putting on a full face of make up and a making sure all traces of last night are scrubbed out of her hair and off her body. 

As she gives you the low down on the pretty boy she'd gone home with the night before, you realize she isn't quite as naive and inexperienced as you'd assumed, but halfway through a description of a hilarious drunken blow job, she stops, and makes you promise not to tell Richard about any of her past antics.

"I doubt I'll be having any long conversations with him." You tell her. And she shrugs, then goes back to her story.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night shoots are the WORST. But there are a few perks when you're working with Richard.

You're wrong about your conversations with Richard being few and far between.

The first day he's shooting interior on the lot- the absolute ideal scenario for sound because it means everything is controlled inside a nice, secure building. You wait for hair, make up and wardrobe to be finished before you enter his dressing room. 

You should have been there with wardrobe. But she gives you funny looks, and keeps on telling people that you've been making eyes for her (hardly) and so you apologize for being late and curse yourself because you're now alone and having to rush to get him to set on time.

You unbutton his shirt, and he looks surprised. You pull your hands back- you tend to get blinders on when you're rushed, and his face reminds you that personal space is something to be respected. 

"I'm sorry." You say. "I need you to open your shirt and unbuckle your pants."

He blushes, but complies. You hook the battery pack for his mic to the back of his belt, your face near enough his chest to hear the thump thump thump of his heart. 

Trying to concentrate on hooking the wires in an unobtrusive way, you wish after so many years of doing this that you'd conquered your awkwardness. It wasn't so much that he was an attractive man, though there is no question that he is, it was more that you weren't great with physical contact- especially in a time crunch. 

He seemed used to it though- you have to be when you're an actor. There are constantly people prodding and poking and adjusting you, you simply must develop a tough skin about it. Even so, you cringe a little when you accidentally touch his skin while adjusting the clipped mic on his chest.

"I don't think we have to tape you today." You tell him. He pumps his fist in the air, letting out a quick "Yes!" That is so incredibly dorky that you can't help but laugh. He smiles at you.

"Wow, I got a laugh out of you. Maybe I am just a little talented." He gives a cocky grin and you roll your eyes. 

"Don't forget to redo your belt before you get out there, Johnny Carson." You tell him while turning to leave, adding, "Sorry for making you late."

He shrugs. "What are they gonna do, start without me?" He asks. You give him one last giggle- that he definitely doesn't deserve, and wait until you've completely closed the door to start sprinting to your position on set.  
\--------------------------  
Night shoots suck. That is the official conclusion you've come to, and any time you can get away with it, you bail on them. But you're the new kid on the block and so two nights after Richard's arrival, you're the one who's stuck with a fucked up sleep schedule and a call time of 5 pm.

That's not all you're stuck with though, when you get to set and see no begrudging wardrobe assistants to speak of. Becky, being the low rung of her department's totem pole, doesn't seem at all frustrated to be there, and you see exactly why when you accompany her to Richard's trailer and he opens it in nothing but a towel.

He greets you both jovially, and you try to remind yourself that you're an adult woman who has, occasionally, had the pleasure of seeing an attractive man in a towel. But his ease makes you realize that he's being completely professional, and you ask. "Where's your wardrobe?" 

Becky giggles and Richard gives you a look. "Err. I suppose you're looking at it." He readjusts the towel around his waist. "Do you... Do you need to see the pants?" And you have a moments relief, until you remember that in English English, "pants" doesn't mean the same thing as "trousers" and he's stripped down to the skin toned briefs that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination (especially when you're this close.)

You try to suck your tongue back into your mouth before you begin to drool, and then exit the trailer, hoping that your reddened face and shortened breath can be attributed to being angry about being under prepared for this shoot, and NOT to Richard's thighs and massive package, the age of which is currently being seared to the inside of your eyelids. 

You search for the night's Assistant Director. On the surface, your impassioned tirade is about the fact that you can't possibly mic some one who's completely nude- there's simply no where to hide the mic or battery pack!- and why didn't some one send the wardrobe notes to sound for this?- but really it's all about your realization of exactly how long it's been since you'd felt any sort of desire. 

The AD apologizes. And you take a breath- it IS his fault, but your recently reignited libido is NOT. He asks what you're going to do, the signs of an impending anxiety attack creeping out of his eyes. 

Becky's make up is going to take at least a couple hours, and you're only a half hour from the hotel. So you grab the keys of a set car and make the trek back up to your room for the boom kit you weren't expected- or asked- or paid- to bring for this shoot. 

And, because you where the only sound engineer on the crew (which is understandably small given the intimacy of the scene) for the night, you grab the stilettos that are a bitch on your feet, but the only way you would be tall enough to boom for six-fucking-foot-three Richard Armitage.   
\----------------  
You get back with more than enough time to calibrate the gear, alert camera crew and still walk back to Richard's trailer to let him know about the change. 

"You've worked an external scene with a boom tons of times, right?" You say. 

Showing him the mic, complete with the puffy sleeve boom mics were known for. He speaks at normal volume right into it. And you let out a loud "Fuck" and adjust the volume on your headphones. Simultaneously mixing and booming was not ideal, and if you'd been warned, you would have insisted on a second to boom.

But you were a professional, damn it, and it being a skeleton crew and a night shoot, even if you had been desperate enough to accept the beanpole of a lighting grip that the AD had offered you, you weren't going to take him away from his job. You'd make due.

"Sorry." You say. "It's a really sensitive mic."

"Can you hear me?" He asks into the microphone in a whisper. You nod. 

"You look really cute when you're angry." He tells you. 

You roll your eyes. 

"Can I use your bathroom to change?" You ask and he says it's fine.

You strip out of your gear, and close the door behind yourself. Richard might be confident enough to sit around with you and Becky in what might as well be nothing, but you aren't paid to look good on camera so a little privacy goes a long way for you.

Unfortunately, booming comfortably- or at least comfortably for you in these heels- doesn't exactly leave you in the most modest clothes either. 

You put a sports bra on under the tank you were wearing and trade the tattered jeans- which you would have felt fine in if you didn't have to wear the heels- for tight knee-length leggings. You look a mess, but after trial and error, you know this is the outfit that works for you. You put on the heels, and emerge, with your hair- which you should just cut, but don't have the heart to get rid of- still needing to be re-brushed and pulled up into a tight bun again. 

Becky is working on Richard's back, and you're standing at the mirror angled away from him, but you can see him taking your ludicrous outfit in. 'Go ahead, Richard, gawk at me. Lord knows I've done my fair share of ogling you tonight.' You think as you pull the rest of your gear on.

"We're gonna be here for atleast another 15 minutes." Becky tells you. 

"You should take a load off and entertain us." Richard suggests. 

"I should really go check out your marks and see where I can hide. Thanks for letting me change in here." You say as you walk out the door. And you would wager that, yes, you really had seen Richard staring at your ass.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long night of hard work, and a few glasses of good wine, almost anything can happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I intended this to be a sweet little STRAIGHT story. The following shows you just how horribly I fail at that. 
> 
> Also, it's complete and utter smut.

Ten hours in stilettos was NOT your definition of a good work day, and you were happy to "entertain" Becky and Richard by lounging on the couch in his trailer while she stripped off copious layers of make up.

"You sure you don't mind my bare feet?" You ask.

"If you two don't mind my bare ass, I think I can handle a couple of toes." He says.

"Your ass is in a chair, and besides, it is much nicer to look at than my toes." You respond.

"Flirt." Becky calls you out. You're too tired to have a proper filter at this point though. "She's right though. Your ass is much cuter than her mangled monster feet."

You flip Becky off. Richard laughs.

"I am a committed professional who has sacrificed her feet so that the world will get to know what Richard Armitage was saying whilst naked." You proclaim. And then add. "I am a complete idiot."

Richard grabs one of your feet. "No, you're a saint." He says. Rubbing the abused pinkie toe that you really aren't sure will ever recover from tonight. 

"No one is gonna give a dam what you're saying in those shots." You tell him. "No matter how amazing your delivery was."

"You're flirting again." Becky warns.

"I'm just trying to get Richard to keep rubbing my feet." You half-joke. You see him blushing, but he doesn't stop. 

"The least I could do." He says, quietly. 

"So, you'll do more then?" You ask, eyebrows wagging suggestively, and he blushes again. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Becky's annoyed expression. And Richard doesn't say anything in response, simply continues rubbing and smiling while Becky works on him. 

When he's finally finished, and you're-thankfully-back in flats, the sun is almost coming up.

"Ok. What bars are open at 5 in the morning?" You ask.

"None" he says.

"Well, we all have a full day- and night- to recover, and everyone else is already on the correct schedule. So you're stuck day drinking with Becky and me." You tell him. 

And it's been a long night, but if you can do it. Richard and Becky sure as hell aren't going to give up on a well deserved good time. 

"Ok. I've got wine in my suite." He says.

"Ooh, Becky... You wanna go to Richard's suite?" You ask, leaning on her. You're sleep deprived-and alcohol deprived-and silly. She's playing along with it- hugging you back.

"What red blooded woman would say no to that?" She asks. 

Richard blushes. "I wasn't trying to imply anything ladies. Just offering you some wine-"

"Perhaps some dine?" Becky asks.

"Please don't forget the 69!" You add and it turns Richard practically purple, he's blushing so much. You and Becky erupt into a fit of giggles. 

"Sorry, we'd love to come up to your suite...for wine." You say, attempting a straight face. And Richard gets a car to take you all back to the much nicer hotel where the actors and the rest of the above the line company is housed.  
\------------------

You tried. God knows you tried to resist. 

But three glasses into a wine that was much better than he had to uncork, you and Becky are in a tickling match that's every bit as sexy and clichéd as anything you'd expect to see on late night cable and you slip and then you're kissing, and it's the first skin you've touched in months that was because you felt welcome, and she's sweet and cute and you give in and melt into her arms, even if you know she's looking towards Richard the whole time. 

You're almost certain she's only putting on a show for him, but you're just drunk enough not to care, and you can tell they're both waiting for the next move to see where this things going. 

The way you see it, you have a few choices. You can pull away and giggle at how "silly" you're being because of the wine and that can be the end of it. 

You can call a cab and leave Becky and Richard to deal with the aftermath in whatever way they decide to. 

You can pull Becky into the bathroom, close the door on Richard and see if she'll let it go any further with out an audience. 

Instead, you turn toward Richard, look him in the hungry eyes, and pull him down, both you and Becky working together to let him between you, then pressing your bodies to his. 

You feel his hand move up your shirt as he kisses Becky, and you let his fingertips explore the side of your stomach, each inch he touches igniting like it hadn't been living until he'd come along.

You press your lips to his neck and hear him let out a moan on Becky's. 

He turns his head towards you, and presses his lips to yours, you feel like a desert flower finally blossoming as his tongue slides into your mouth. 

You take hold of Becky's hand, moving down Richard's chest, under his pants, you can feel Becky's fingers shuddering- same as yours- as you both reach his erection. 

He lets out a sigh on your mouth, and you move, kissing your way down his cheek and pushing him toward Becky as you begin to nibble his ear. 

One of his hands grabs her breast, the other remains wrapped around your side, holding you against him. 

Becky wraps her hand securely around his cock, and you move yours up to release her from the restrictive bra she's wearing, then your fingers move to hold the breast Richard isn't on. You move her nipple between your fingers as she bites Richard's lip and you kiss down to nibble his neck.

He moves his head down, his lips wrapped around her other nipple and she lets out an eager sigh. 

Their sounds are intoxicating, his arm pulls you closer, you're almost on top of him now, and closer to Becky too. 

You kiss her again, she's so soft and sweet and the way her breath feels on your lips reminds you of what it used to feel like to be happy. Her make up is mostly smudged off, but she is still beautiful. 

Richard's hand moves down your back, grabbing your ass forcefully, and Becky breathes heavy on your lips as Richard expertly sucks on her nipple while she continues stroking him. He moves off, completely under the two of you kissing. 

He turns around- not enough to remove Becky's hand, but enough to concentrate on removing your shirt, releasing your breasts- which are bigger, but not as perfect as Becky's- and you should know, you've lived with them for too long not to see them for what they are. He doesn't seem to mind, or if he does, Becky and you are doing enough to distract him from verbalizing his disappointment. 

You're grateful. It's obvious to you who is on the bottom rung of aesthetic totem pole here, and you just hope everyone gets their pants off before they are too sober to realize you've somehow snuck into their cuteness party.

And then, you feel his fingers pulling at your pants, both American and English versions, and you're stripping Becky, and she's pulling his clothes off. It's a proper naked party now, though getting there is almost a circus clown act.

There's a minute where you feel eyes on you, staring, the same flushed, aroused way you're lusting for them, and you soak in the way it feels to be wanted again, and whatever's going on, it's a high so much better than you've felt for so long, and you push the logical thoughts out of your head and concentrate on the high of your bodies touching. 

Becky instantly moves to Richard's cock, the sight of her, tonguing his head while her perfectly manicured nails continue to work his shaft, is intensely arousing. 

Richard's arms are around you again, he's pulling you on top and you follow his lead, spreading your legs on either side of his face, the stubble a long forgotten sensation for you, one you're happy to be reliving now.

Whatever Becky is doing for him is working, you feel the benefits of it as he moans on your clit, then goes back to licking it. You let out a moan yourself, your thighs wobble and quiver more than you'd like, but he devours you as if you're an oasis and he's been lost in the desert. 

You can't think straight enough to keep track of exactly what's happening behind you. Just that Becky's gone for a minute, then you feel her chest pressed against your back and she's moaning on your neck. 

If she's taken all of him, you're impressed, and a bit relieved because all you want to concentrate on is his mouth below you, and how good Becky's lips feel on your neck and shoulders. Sometimes the kisses are soft and sweet, and sometimes they're desperate bites while she screams Richard's name. 

His hands are helicopter fast, moving everywhere at once. You know they're on Becky's tits and your ass, fingers inside you at just the right moments, and you're screaming for both of them too.

You hear him moaning into your clit again, feel the tell tale thrusts and know he's spending himself inside Becky. When he does, you get off him, letting him catch his breath. 

You can tell she's not satisfied as she rocks on him, moving down to kiss him, while dismounting. You pull her towards you, kissing her lips, then her neck, helping her lay down next to Richard. He rolls toward her, kissing her lips as you move down her breasts, her stomach, then part her with your tongue, expertly swirling around the clean shaven skin before latching on to her perfect flowery clit. It takes almost no time to have her writhing on your mouth, and you have Richard to thank for that. You easily slip two fingers inside and crook them onto the perfect sensitive spot, and she's positively convulsing. Richard's moving again, and you feel him behind you.

"New condom." You warn him.

"Ok, right." He says, and it takes him a minute find them, wishing that he had Becky doing it again for him, but managing to slide it on before situating himself behind you. You continue concentrating on Becky as he slowly enters you. 

You'd been weary about how big he is, but he's considerate about your body's limits, only giving you what you can take at a time, holding your hips and rocking gently until your body relaxes and he can move deeper. 

When he finally fills you, you're shocked at how empty you were before. You take a second for yourself- sighing on Becky's stomach and saying "oh, God, yes, Richard." Before going back to her. 

She softly pets your hair, but you know she's got one more level of ecstasy and you're determined to get her there, even if Richard is distracting you with his own expert cock, and hands, and entire body. 

It's Becky's ecstasy that rolls you and Richard over the edge. She arches her perfect body as she moans, grasping tightly at your hair, thrusting wildly onto your face, and it's more than you and Richard can take, you're moaning as you all climax.

Richard collapses, you move off Becky, and with shaky legs, move over to his other side. It's the middle of the afternoon, but you all decide you deserve a nap, and quickly fall asleep- Becky happily cuddled up against him and you resting on his arm, your back against his side.   
\-----------------------  
When you wake up, it's dark and Richard has his arms tightly wrapped around both of you, his head nestled in your hair. 

You're all ravenous. Richard orders room service and extra robes, and goes to the door to grab everything, and give the bell hop an extra large tip for not making any fuss about the late night request, and hopefully to buy a little discretion as well.

He brings the fluffy robes into the bedroom and hands them to you and Becky. 

"Dinner is in the other room, when you're ready ladies." He says, and he bows out of the bedroom, attempting to respectfully allow you your modesty. 

As if him leaving would make anything less awkward. 

As if you and Becky know how to act around each other now. 

You wonder if she's ever been with a woman before. You wonder if she's ashamed, if she's mad at you. But you say nothing, and just hope that Richard's had more experience with this sort of thing. 

He's an actor. He's done this hundreds of times, you're sure. He'll get you through dinner, and you and Becky will go back to the cheap motel you're staying at, and he'll help turn this from an awkward drunken mistake into a funny wild ride between friends. 

And you'll all be back to normal when you see each other the next morning, and have a secret trust you can attribute to too much wine and a weird night shoot. 

It's a story that will be great- once it just ends. You're sure. So you smile at Becky, wrap yourself in the ultra plush robe, and you both walk out together.

Richard is patiently waiting to eat- he's downed a few glasses of water, but otherwise the food is still covered.

He's ordered steak. Which is thoughtful considering the afternoons you've had, but you're a vegetarian- so you trade him and Becky- half of their salads each for the meat, and he apologizes profusely. 

It's fine. He would have no way of knowing, but as you tell him that, you blush at the fact that he knows what you taste like before he knows you don't eat meat. 

You're fine with extra rolls and salad and they're both happy for the extra protein. 

You raid the mini fridge of water bottles. Who cares? He's not paying for the room, so he offers you and Becky anything you want, and you tease him for the indulgences. 

The joke was a risk, but some how, it eases the tension. Your earlier hedonism fits you a little better after you've all laughed a bit. 

After dinner, you want desperately to take a shower. You ask if he'll call you a car, and he suggests you take a shower there- he wants to take you guys out on the town for a few hours, so you don't go to bed too early and continue fucking up your sleep schedule. 

You agree to take a shower- alone- in his lush bathroom, but come out not wanting to go out. You just want to go back to your own room and try to soberly process everything.

You feign a stomach ache, and Richard acquiesces, ordering a car for you. You pull on the jeans from last night, and gather up all your gear. 

Becky walks you downstairs.

"You don't mind me and Richard going out, do you?" she asks, and you can tell she's ecstatic over getting the time alone with him.

"Of Course not." You tell her, loading stuff into the car. "Have a great time." You give her a hug and a kiss (on the cheek, because you're not brave enough to move in for more and risk rejection) and slide into the seat while she tells you to feel better.  
\-------------------------------

You've been back in your room for a few hours. You feel more normal in your own pajamas, in your own (well, sort of) bed. But Richard was right, there was no way you'd be able to sleep for a while and still get back to the right schedule for tomorrow, so you put on the tv and tried to drown out your confusion by staring at the flickering screen.

It doesn't take- the TV just became background noise to the thoughts flying through your head. 

You'd seen this scenario play out too many times before- hadn't you just been hoping that Becky wouldn't fall into the same trap you'd seen so many others fall into with these types things? 

And yet, a few glances at Richard's thighs and a couple of glasses of good wine, and you'd willingly tumbled into this with her- you knew better and you still did it. 

What was your excuse? 

Had you just ruined everything with the only new friends you'd been able to make in what felt like years? 

Would the rumor mill be abuzz with tales of your dalliance by tomorrow night? 

You weren't anywhere near able to sleep, and you didn't want to drink again after the morning. As the clock read "2 am" you resigned yourself to turn off the tv and at least pretend to get some rest. 

You're about to get under the covers when there's a knock at your door. You think about ignoring it. But a minute later, the knock repeats, and you're not resting anyways, so you go to the door- expecting that Becky wants to analyze her night out with Richard. But when you open the door, Richard is standing there, his hand nervously combing through his hair.

"Hi." He says.

"Hi" you respond, making no move towards-or away-from him. The silence between you is deafening. 

"Can I come in for a moment?"He asks. Your room is a mess. You're not usually so slovenly, but there's been no reason to pick up- you'd had no one to impress for months. Not that being extra clean had made much of a difference even when you'd tried. 

You move, letting him in.

He sits on the only surface not covered in junk or laundry- the bed. You sit down on the other side in silence. 

"Are you feeling better?" He asks, and you remember that you'd told him you felt sick earlier.

"Yes. Much better. How's Becky?"

"She's... Asleep- passed out, actually. in her room." He tells you, and you don't know why he needs to tell you that.

"Is she ok?"

"I think so. She certainly knows how to drink. I hope she'll be alright for tomorrow."

"She's young. She'll bounce back."

"What about you?"

"I'm not so young. But I don't have the same affinity for Long Island iced tea."

"So you'll bounce back?"

"A little slower, a little lower. I'll be there though. I'll get through."

Richard wraps his arms around you-no funny business- and gives you a hug. "Of Course you will" he says, and you indulge yourself a little, not pulling away from his embrace. 

After a few minutes of silence, you both crawl under the covers. There is no move for kissing, fondling, or anything sexual. Yet, in his arms, it feels more intimate than anything you'd done with your clothes off, and for the first time in months, you fall asleep with out the use of any sleep aids- unless you consider Richard's warm arms a sleeping aid.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wouldn't life be grand if things could just be simple?

You wake up at six and Richard is ever so quietly snoring, his head nuzzled in the crook of your neck. 

You want to marvel at him- he really is something to look at- but it feels an intrusion to watch him sleeping- and you know he needs to get up soon if he wants to run back to his room before any one catches him here. 

You gently rub your hand down the stubble on his cheek, hating to wake him, but loving the way it feels under your fingertips. You wish you could stop the burning in your chest, the churning in your stomach, the tell tale signs that feelings are brewing for the man in your bed. 

His eyes crack open, a gorgeous blue that isn't exactly "bright" this early in the morning, shine through. He smiles at you.

"Good morning." He says.

You know it's too late, you've been caught. Nevertheless, you pull your hand back, a silent apology for the personal space invasion. You clear your throat and respond "Good morning." 

He yawns.

"What time is it?"

"It's only 6. But if you want to sneak out of here before the place starts bumping, you'll have to hurry."  
You tell him. 

He stretches and yawns again, not appearing to see a need to make haste. Then it occurs to him.

"Do you want me to sneak out of here?"

"It's really for your own good." You tell him.

"That's a bit indirect."

"What do you want me to say, Richard?"

"I want you to say that you like me enough not to be ashamed to be caught in a hotel room with me."

"Why would I be ashamed of you?"

"I can't say I know. But you're certainly acting it."

"I'm only trying to save you from the gossip mill. You can't possibly want everyone knowing what you've spent your time off doing."

"Don't make this about what I want. You're the one shooing me out the door."

"I'm not, Richard. Stay as long as you want."

But you can tell his ego's been bruised. He sits up and finds the shirt he'd pulled off in the middle of your nap. Part of you wants to stop him, kiss him, let him know exactly how much you like him, how incredibly unashamed you would be for the entire company to see him walking out of your room, with a billboard sized smile on his face. 

But it's better this way. You're both only here for a few more weeks. And then what? You go back to LA. You don't even know where he goes back to. And what? You pretend you'll see each other? You aren't strong enough to have a fling right now. You're too tender, still. 

You can chalk this up to drink and Canada and Becky being young and enticing. This can just be a funny-private- story. 

You can swallow your feelings and maybe save your friendships. 

"It's best this way." Is the mantra replaying in your head, over and over again, as he silently puts his shoes on, grabs his much loved leather jacket from one of your junk laden chairs, and walks to the door. 

"You wouldn't prefer me jump off the balcony, lest some one be in the hallway?" He asks. And you laugh, because his ego is bruised, but he's only jesting with you.

He smiles when you laugh, and you get up, and despite your better judgement, you wrap your arms around him. 

He feels so good to hug. And you don't want to let go, but it's for the best, so you do.

"Go on." You playfully smack his ass "Get!" You both smile, and for a split second you think maybe you really can salvage a friendship. 

Then, you open the door for Richard and he almost walks right into Becky.

Freshly scrubbed and made up Becky, holding two coffees and you suspect- up until the door had opened- smiling and ready to tell you all about her night with Richard. 

But there he is, coming out of your room. She looks from him to you and you watch her face fall. She shoves both the coffees she's holding into Richard's hands and runs back towards the elevator and her room a floor up.

"She thinks we left her out." He says to you. You take the coffee and push him out.

"Go home." You tell him, closing the door and walking to the stairs at the end of the hall. "I'll take care of it."  
\-------------------

"Nothing happened." You say as soon as Becky opens the door. You wait, hopefully, for her response.

She stares skeptically at you, and you offer her a cup of her own coffee- a pathetic olive branch, but the only thing you've currently got.

She takes it, and slowly moves, allowing you into her room.

"Elaborate." She says once the door closes. You sit down- in a chair across from her, because apparently Becky doesn't live out of piles and actually has available chairs.

"He came to say goodnight after he dropped you off. We talked, we fell asleep. Nothing happened."

She takes a drink of the coffee.

"Why didn't anything happen?"

You shrug. "Maybe he's not that into me." 

"Seemed fine with you yesterday."

"What guy wouldn't be lusty with you in their room?" You say, and she blushes. You didn't think it would be this easy. 

"I'm really sorry Becky. I know the last few days have been...weird. And you have every right to not believe me. But I'm not interested in Richard like that." And you didn't know you were that good of a liar. But she buys it.

"Why'd he spend the night at yours then?"

"I-- he was worried about you."

"He was?"

"He said you'd passed out."

"So why didn't he stay with me?"

"You know how guys are... He doesn't want to appear needy. But he wanted to be near- in case you needed him." And now, even you're believing your bullshit. As if you had any idea how men thought. 

Becky doesn't seem to care, though.   
As long as you keep telling her how she and Richard definitely have something. Before you're done with your coffee, things between you are back to "normal" and Becky's scheming ways to get alone with Richard again. 

You smile and nod, and start the process of swallowing the things you'd imagined you'd seen or heard or felt, trying to be happy with being left out of the plans Becky was making.  
\---------------------

Becky's plans seem to be working. You want to be happy for them, but you're not THAT good of an actress. And you cringe every time you've got to be alone in a room with them. 

So when a chance to trade mic duties for mixing duties comes up- you pounce on it. Finally, an escape from Richard's dressing room each morning. No more repressing jealousy as you watched Becky and Richard giggling and cuddling.

They could be as happy as they wanted- for as long as it lasted- and you would no longer need to suffocate under your plastered on, awkward smiles. Maybe your exit would be a relief for Becky and Richard. 

Two days after the transfer, Richard shows up at your door again.

It's the middle of the night. And he looks amazing, and he says Becky's asleep- or passed out- again. "Oh. " you say, making no attempt to let him into your room.

"You've been busy. I haven't seen you for days."

"I was transferred."

"Why?"

"What are you here for Richard?"

"To say hi. I get the feeling you've been avoiding me."

"You've just been busy."

"I'm not busy now."

"It's late."

"So?"

"I'm sure you have plenty to keep you busy back at your hotel."

"I'd rather come in and talk with you."

"About what?"

"Whatever I've done to piss you off."

"Why do you think you've pissed me off?"

"Let me come in and we'll talk about it." He pleads. You want to curse yourself as you sigh and let him in.

"You want a beer?" You ask, cracking one open. 

"I'm fine."

"You didn't do anything to piss me off." You tell him. It's not exactly the truth, but he didn't intentionally do anything to piss you off, so what did it matter?

"Can we talk about the other night?"

"As long as you're not going to critique me."

And he laughs. It feels like sunshine when you make him smile. And you hate yourself for how much you crave it. 

"Is that what you think I'd want to do?"

"I don't know what you want, Richard."

"I want things to not be weird between us. And I think they are. "

You sigh. "I don't think they were ever NOT weird."

He bites his lip, it's adorable, and God you wish you were biting it for him. You adjust, moving another inch away- attempting to convince your body that touching him isn't exactly what you need.

"But why?" He asks. 

"It's a long story."

Richard reaches across you for a beer. "I've got all night." He says while cracking it open.

And the prospect of explaining everything is terrifying. But you look at him, and you know he deserves to know, and maybe it will be easier for him if he understands. 

And you start by explaining that you're not typically wired for people like him.

"What do you mean- people like me?" He asks.

"Jesus! Do I really have to spell it out for you?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Men, Richard. You're not typically my cup of tea." And it's as if a lightbulb's gone off in his head.

"So, the other night with Becky?"

"Would have probably happened even if you weren't around." And you see him wince. No man likes to hear he's unnecessary. "I'm sorry. I don't mean for it to come out that way."

"No. I asked." He laughs, awkwardly. "Do you, do you want me to back off with Becky?"

"Are you kidding me? She'd kill me."

"Yeah, but if you like her-"

"Richard, she likes you." He blushes.

"I'm a bit too old for her, don't you think?"

"It's not for me- or any one else- to judge. But don't stop exploring it on my account. I've been down that road too recently. I'm not ready to deal with another straight girl." 

"What do you mean?"

"It's a long story."

"I still have all night." He says.

And so you tell him the story of the last three years of your life. 

Everything comes flooding out. How you'd met, moved in too quickly, the unbelievable highs and the painful lows- the things that were your fault, that were hers. 

And through it all, you'd glance over and he was listening intently. All your friends had been part of this story, so you'd never gotten to talk it out. And here he was, just sitting here, letting you talk. It was cathartic.

You started crying at some point- it wasn't the betrayal, it was some trivial memory, just the straw that broke the camel's back. And you were a mess. 

Richard put down your drinks, finally took off his jacket, and wrapped his arms around you. 

Part of you wanted to wipe away the tears and regain your composure. But his arms were warm and you felt so ripped open and vulnerable already, you simply indulged yourself, letting tears fall down his shirt, pressing closer into his chest, and feeling yourself finally letting go of how angry you'd been over the break up.

"So what happened?" He asked once you'd calmed down. And you realized you hadn't explained yet.

"I found her in bed with some one else." You told him, and he hugged you again, gently petting your hair. "I know I'm making a big deal out of it. It was all but over long before that." You say, but he snaps back.

"Doesn't matter. It always hurts to see it happen like that."

You try to appreciate this for what it is- a friendly embrace. You get the feeling that he might know from experience what this is like. 

It wasn't exactly unknown to happen- though from your perspective, it felt impossible to imagine why any one could ever do that to Richard. 

"So the other night was just a crazy rebound?" He asked

You wished you could put all the good things you felt about him into a nice concrete box marked "friend" and throw out all the rest of the confusing feelings. 

"Something like that." lying to spare poor Richard from dealing with your crazy fucked up head any more than he'd already had to. 

He kisses the top of your head, and you want so badly to tip your head up to his lips, which would go against everything you've been trying to tell him about how you're not ready or strong enough for getting between him and Becky. And it breaks your heart to keep it bottled up, but you manage, he whispers "ok." And you wrap your arms around him and you both sit there for a long time like that. 

It is late though, and you're not dealing with the fall out of getting caught with Richard in your room again. You walk him to the door.

He hugs you again, and kisses your cheek. You resist the urge to tilt up and taste his lips- just to say good bye. But you've got weeks more together. 

It's not goodbye, yet, and you want to let him know that he's right about Becky and not make anything more confusing than it already is. So you swallow it.

And things go fine. 

You make it through. You and Becky are friends. You and Richard are friends. You even manage to go out with them a few times before the end of the shoot. 

Just to be safe, you watch your alcohol consumption, but after that last talk with Richard, it's getting easier to get to sleep with out drinks any ways. And things are starting to look brighter. 

The prospect of going back home isn't as bad as it felt before. You're missing your bed, and your friends, and you're looking forward to changing your place up so its not so lonely any more.

Becky and Richard are talking about what happens when they wrap, and it looks like maybe she is going to become one of those girls who actually is the exception to the rule- though you wonder how much of that is because Richard is an outlier among guest actors, as opposed to Becky being all that special. 

But if he sees something more in her than you do, who are you to judge? By the wrap party, you're truly happy to see them cuddling together and wish them the best.

Becky is Canadian, and only a few hours drive from home. She offers to drive you and Richard to the airport on the way back home. And while third wheeling with the uber-adorable fledgling couple doesn't particularly sound like a walk in the park, it is a free ride, and better than taking a long ride in the back of a taxi. 

You catch up on emails outside the car while they say goodbye, trying to give them a bit of privacy. When it's time, Richard carries your bag- you've shipped most of your gear back home- a friend is waiting at home to sign for all the boxes. You wave goodbye to Becky, and walk through the doors together.  
You end up having a bit of a trek in the same direction, so you walk together, Richard still holding your bag, but the time comes where you've come to his first class lounge and you've still got a trek to your flight.

"I suppose this is it." He says as he hands you your bag.

"I suppose so." You say, and for lack of a better idea, you extend your hand for a shake. "It was a pleasure, Richard." He looks incredulously at your hand, shoved it aside, and picks you up into a great big bear hug. 

"It was a pleasure." He says, dropping you back down. He kisses you, chastely but square on the lips. "Keep in touch?" He asks.

"Of course ." You promise, though you don't know how sincere you are.

You pick up your bag and start walking, then abruptly stop.

"Thank you." You say. And he smiles. 

"Thank you, too."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things have changed quite a bit over the last few years, but your friendship with Richard has remained.

Things don't always go as planned. You're trying to learn that, truly accept that it was ok for everything to not go according to plan. After all, It's not always a bad thing.

In the three years since that first international gig, you'd had a lot of good luck and a lot of hard work, and the sound design company you'd started- that had really just been you in the beginning- had gained a reputation for good work. 

By being selective about who you employed, and having a good eye for potential, your little company had grown exponentially. 

For better or for worse, the day to day operations had taken you away from set work almost completely. 

But you were willing to make exceptions for old friends. So when Richard flew out to LA to personally meet with you in your modest office in The Valley, you had a feeling that you might be seeing the inside of a studio again soon.

You knew enough to congratulate him- enough places had confirmed that he was officially directing his first feature. And it seemed much nicer to concentrate on the exciting new chapter in his career, rather than have to talk about the rather public and mortifying (from his perspective) recent break up from Becky.

They had had a decent run for a few years, especially lucrative for her, since her make up artistry had taken a backseat to her blossoming acting career after enough people had noticed her on Richard's arm. 

He would never claim to have anything to do with her career success, but that didn't mean you- and the rest of the world- didn't see how much having a famous boyfriend had to do with her ability to secure her first, and probably her second, leading roles.

She'd ended up trading him in for a younger, trendier co-star, and according to the stories, he'd found out about it in a pretty dramatic fashion. 

The whole situation made you uncomfortable. You hadn't seen Becky for over a year, but even then, you'd known something had changed inside her. She wasn't the sweet girl who craved everyone's attention. She was an "it" girl now, and demanded everyone's attention. She'd fallen into the trap of believing her own hype, and it wasn't attractive. You were honestly a little shocked that Richard and she dated for so long.

But that wasn't why he was here. And even if you were dying to hear his side of the story, you weren't about to bring it up. 

Over the years, he and you had occasionally run into each other. But this was the first time he'd seen your office, and you knew it was modest, But you were proud of every inch of it. 

Richard happily followed you through the tour, you introduced him to a couple of key people before taking him into your office.

You sat down behind the impressive desk, resting your legs on it. Your uniform had changed quite a bit from the black jeans and tank tops he remembered you in- and it probably wasn't the best idea to kick up your legs when you're wearing a pencil skirt and heels. But it was Richard, and you loved the way he looked at your legs. 

And yes, most of the time, you wouldn't allow some one to absentmindedly caress your calves while you haggled over daily kit fees. But it was Richard, and you had a soft spot for the way his fingers felt on you. 

"Is this how you're going to dress On Set?" He asks.

You roll your eyes.

"You know, I can send you some one. I don't really have to be on set."

He pouts. "I know. But it would be more fun if you were. Like the good old days."

You laugh. "The good old days? Richard, all we did was get drunk together for a few weeks!"

"And it was fun!"

"You're going to be so busy, you won't have any time to go get drunk with me."

"I'll make the time."

You smile. Maybe you could make the time too.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day back on set with Richard! Talk about twists and turns! Of course, what can you expect? Things certainly aren't going according to plan.

It's your first day back on set, in the thick of it again, and it's just as hectic as you expected. You're so busy prepping actors, checking equipment, and putting out teeny tiny fires, that you don't even see Richard until you're both on your way to the sound stage. You nearly collide with a kid holding a boom mic- he's not one of yours and you give Richard a quixotical look.

"This is the behind the scene crew" he says, getting you to wave to the camera with him.

"Hi". You say. And it takes all of your will power to not be filmed giving tips to the boom kid. But you manage to look calm and professional, letting Richard know all his actors are ready. He smiles at you, says thanks, and you try not to trip over yourself as you leave. 

The camera pointed at you makes you feel nervous, and you're jealous that Richard can be so at ease with. But of course its second nature to him. He's used to this. Cameras in his face as just part of his life.

You spend most of the day trying to focus on getting your mixers and boomers in the right spots, helping mic a few actors, and hiding as much as possible from the behind the scenes crew.

They try to stick primarily to Richard and the cute lead- who you can't help but notice bears a striking resemblance to a younger looking Richard. It shouldn't be hard to remain out of eyeshot. 

But it seems as if every new set up, Richard has a sound question. And while your crew is highly knowledgeable and can hold their own- especially with first time directors (because as talented and experienced on screen as Richard is, this IS still his first feature.) he is continuously pulling rank over your team, and wanting to ask you directly about things.

It's getting on your nerves. He's questioning your judgement when he doesn't have faith in your team. And by the end of the day, you have- on 6 separate occasions repeated verboten exactly what your employees have told him.

The day finally wraps. You're walking back to your hotel- not the crafts people's hotel, but the above the line hotel closer to set. 

It's not unheard of for the heads of departments (which is what you are now) to get this sort of treatment, but your suite is much nicer than it would be if you and Richard weren't friends, and you know it. 

You're not used to this. There's something lonely about not being with the rest of your crew. But you've been through this before, and there's simply no way to sound like anything other than a "poor little rich girl" while complaining about feeling isolated with your first class accommodations. 

Besides, you felt lonely when you were in the slums, too. You have to face facts, you're a lonely, moody person, no matter how far you climb.

Not to say you've been alone all these years. There have been enough flings and even a few potential relationship contenders. 

But no one's stuck, and you're beginning to think that perhaps you're simply one of those people who wasn't cut out for long term relationships. That thought had put enough of a damper on your mood for you to beg off on going out for drinks with people you knew you weren't going to connect with that night- even if a drink on the first night was customary. You'd make it up to your crew later.

You laughed at how pathetic you were- already wrapped in pajamas and a blanket before 11:30. But you'd started a good book on the plane and had a bottle of wine waiting for you in your room, so you settled in for the night, assuming that tomorrow would prove as grueling as today- if for no other reason than Richard was turning out to be a much needier director than he was an actor.

You were pleasantly drowsy when there was a knock at your door. You considered feigning sleep, but it could be a script change for the morning, and thinking back to the night three years ago when you'd missed wardrobe notes, you get up, expecting to be greeted by an over worked production assistant, not a drunken northerner. 

There he was though, leaning in your doorway, looking scrumptious in his leather and messy hair, and smelling like a night in a bar.

"Can we talk?" He says, and there's worry in his eyes, and not the kind of nerves that you would expect from the gig.

"Of course." You move so he can come in. You uncork the wine (because after years and years of struggling, you'd finally figured out how to leave some of the wine in the bottle at the end of the night) and pour two small glasses. He sits on the bed and shimmies out of his jacket before taking one of them from you.

"Have you read Becky's book?"

"I didn't know Becky could write."  
That was mean. But you hadn't realized she had the sort of bandwidth- or the desire- to take on that sort of project.

"She's writing an unofficial autobiography."

"How do you write an unofficial autobiography? How can it be unofficial if you're writing it?"

"It means she doesn't have to substantiate any of the claims that she makes about any one else she talks about in the book."

"Oh. So, you don't have to sign your rights?"

"Not just me."

"Well, yeah, but who else is going to care, Richard?"

"You might."

"Richard, how do I put this respectfully?"

"Don't bother. I can take it."

"If she's selling a book based on the fact that people want to know about your sex life- I already know how you fuck."

"That's precisely what she's doing, and why you might care."

"I'm not following."

He starts fiddling with his phone.

"How secure is your email?"

You'd had some issues with security in the past, but you'd buckled down with your work email and told him so.

"And you don't have an assistant who goes through to read your mail first, right?"

You laugh. You forgot how ludicrous life above the line could be.

"I'm sending you a copy of the manuscript- you didn't get it from me, and you don't know how I got it."

"I don't know how you got it."

"Oh yeah," and he flashed a smile. "That part's actually true... You were much more active in our relationship than I realized."

"Was I?" You asked. You could count the number of times you and Richard had been in the same room together over the past 3 years on one hand.

"Apparently. In any case. There's nothing we can really do about it. It's coming out in a few months. But I thought you might want to know."

He finishes his wine, and gets up. You walk him to the door. He moves to hug you, but can't. 

"You've just read this, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"It's really bad?"

"It's very... Confusing."

"Are we ok?"

"In what way?"

"Professionally. Do you need me to leave?"

"I can't do this with out you." He admits.

"Richard, I love what I'm doing here, but I can recommend you a great replacement." He grabs your hands.

"No. I need you." He pulls back. "Please just read the text. I need to know how much of this is true to get it out of my system."

"Alright." You say, and he thanks you and leaves.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot to talk about. Richard has some explaining to do... But he's not the only one.

You pull out your iPad and load the manuscript (un-inspiredly titled "crazy love") 

You attempt to ignore the poor grammar- writing isn't everyone's forte- and, slowly, a picture begins to form.

It starts out on the set where you and she meet. You're apparently a brazen lesbian, obsessed with her from the very second you meet. 

You and Richard conspire to get the naive and sweet Becky into bed together. The original plan was that Richard was only in it for a thrill, and that afterwards, he was quite happy to let you pursue a relationship with her.

But the night together- which was written up in graphic (if not exactly honest or attractive) detail- was a revelation for Richard- who saw in Becky a final chance for the life he had always wanted. That was the term she used, and it makes you uneasy, though you can't put your finger on exactly why. 

The rest of the time you had spent together on set was a series of childish competitions between you and Richard for the eventual prize of Becky- who chose Richard, because she too saw herself as exactly what could "help" him achieve his goals. 

It took a while to understand exactly what she was helping him with- but then there was a chapter devoted to Richard's closeted bisexuality- a heart wrenching story about how he had never quite gotten over his last relationship with a former (male) costar, and the consistent love and forgiveness that Becky had displayed when she found him cheating on her with the same man about a year into their relationship. Suddenly- "what he wanted" made a lot more sense. And it burned you to your core- the implications of Becky's obvious bias- that for some reason, same sex coupling would some how bar people from a life filled with satisfactory relationships or the prospect of easing a healthy family.

Apparently, your participation- and obsession- with Becky didn't end in Canada either. You were still desperately in love with her, and did everything you could to ruin the relationship that kept the two of you apart. 

There were three specific incidents- where Becky had legitimately been in LA, and at your place, with out Richard. And that's where the truth of these incidents ended. 

Each time, you had used your relationship with Richard- who you were still sleeping with (to "prove" to Becky that he didn't care about her) to convince her that you were the right person for her. The last time- after she had caught Richard with his ex- she had given in- another graphically depicted scene that ended up being the least Inspired lesbian sex you'd ever read. (It was one thing to lie about your sex life- but to do it poorly- what an insult!)

The end of the story was all about Becky's self realization- that she was a strong, independent woman who didn't need any man- or woman- to make her whole.

Which would perhaps be a much more inspiring story if you- and any one who knew how to use a search engine- didn't know that she had only broken up with Richard once she was already dating her current co-star.

It wasn't exactly a compelling story. But it was the sort of thing a certain kind of person would absolutely love. It was sensational- but not spectacular, and grammar aside, there was certainly a chance that it could sell.  
\-------------  
The next morning- after 3 cups of coffee, you were still groggy. You tried to concentrate on making sure everything went smoothly for your team. But they were an efficient group, and the set was incredibly well run for it only being the second day. 

You had the surreal experience of cursing the well organized, low key efficiency being displayed. You would have killed for a nice little melt down or an equipment error- anything to distract you from having to look Richard in the eye.

He came down a hall at the same time as you- behind the scenes crew in tow. When you saw each other, his eyes turned into saucers. Your heart raced. What were you going to say to him?

And, in a flash, he was past you. Not even a hello. The brush off burned.   
\------------------

On the actual set, you were bitchy. 

"Waiting for sound" is a normal announcement that always turns into an accusation. 

The camera crew is notorious for yelling it out any time they are ready to go ("waiting for cast" is a HUGE no no, but picking on sound for recalibrating or situating is perfectly fine)

Any time the sound was ready and the cameras weren't, you would yell out "waiting for camera!" In retaliation. 

You were above creating drama like this- your sound crew still had to eat meals with camera- and while there was not a camera crew in the world that didn't yell out "waiting on sound" There were very few sound crews who dared to yell back "waiting for camera!" ("It's called "moving pictures" not "radio"." You remember a mouthy camera assistant telling you years ago. It's not untrue- it doesn't mean that sound was superfluous to telling stories though. Dialogue seemed to be a big hit.)

What you were doing was petty, though, and if you'd heard one of your employees doing it, you would tear them a new one.

Which is exactly what your second in command did with you at lunch. 

Andrew was a great mixer. And knew how to manage a team when he had to. He pulled you aside right before you got in line for food.

"Can I talk to you?" He asks.

"Yeah." You say, and follow him off to a more private area.

"You gotta stop being a bitch to camera."

"They started it."

"Doesn't mean you have to finish it."

You pouted. And that was the moment you realized how uncharacteristic you were being. 

"Damn it, you're right." You tell him, and you go to find Richard.  
\-----------------

He's not eating with everyone else- but then he tends to forget to eat when he's stressed out, so you grab two plates of food and go back to set. 

He wasn't there either.

Part of the perks of everyone knowing that you and he were old friends (you wondered how many other people on set had heard any rumors about the relationship Becky thought you two had had- but it wasn't for here and now to think about it.) Was that it was perfectly within reason that you would come walking straight into his trailer, and you didn't have time to listen to any warnings from the PA stationed outside, you simply barged right in. 

"I think we need to talk." You started, and were met with the eyes of the behind the scene crew- along with the all seeing eye of their camera. "About equipment." You add, knowing that it's a blatant and obvious lie.

Richard looks a little stunned, but recovers before the camera pans back to him. "Of course." He looks at the videographer "We'll have to continue this later." He says, and rushes the crew out of his space. When they're gone, you sit down and give him the plate of food.

"I'm not really hungry." He says.

"Maybe just something to pick at." You tell him, knowing that he's probably famished. And even though you're a bit queasy yourself, you take a bite, hoping it will encourage him.

"I read it." You tell him.

"All of it?"

"Every last word... You can't honestly believe it, can you?"

He shrugs.

"You did tell me that that night would have happened whether I was there or not. And you closed off so much afterwards, what am I supposed to think?"

"You're supposed to think that if she was willing to lie so much about you, that she might be lying about me, too!" You say. His face goes grey as a realization trickles down to you.

"Something in there is true.... Richard, how much is true?"

"I... Do struggle with my bisexuality." He admits, as if it's a curse.

"And the affair?"

"It was complicated... But it happened."

You think back to the night you'd told him about walking in on your ex in bed with their lover. 

You think about the way you'd cried in his arms and how, even months later, it had effected you. 

Part of you actually wanted to forgive Becky for everything she was saying about you because you knew how much it hurt to be the one left behind. 

But she had stayed. Something had gone differently, and you were willing to hear Richard's side of the story.

He ran his fingers through his hair- you wanted to remain disgusted with him at least until you'd heard his side of the story- but it was hard when he did that, because a part of you wished that the part of Becky's story where you continuously slept with Richard (regardless of the reason) had been true.

"Becky and I had taken some time apart- it wasn't an official split- but I was in New York and she had been in Los Angeles for a few months- things had been strained and I realize that's not a good excuse- it's not fair, and I know it."

"But it happened."

"Yes. It wasn't my proudest moment. And I thought that was it for us."

"Why wasn't it?"

He shrugged. "She left, she came back, and she wanted to give us another shot."

"Did you want another shot?"

"At the time, I thought she was being a generous goddess."

"But now?"

He looked queasy. "The last year was much harder. I suppose you can tell from the book, she isn't the most tolerant of people."

"You cheated, Richard."

"Which was wrong. But she wasn't as concerned with the cheating as who I was cheating with."

"The gender of your lover is irrelevant."

"I wish you'd said that three years ago." He said, and then realized what he'd just given away.

"I didn't do anything that you didn't already know about, Richard. I only slept with Becky the one time, and I'm not a lesbian."

"Then why did you let me think, all this time?"

"Because, it didn't matter. It didn't matter what I was."

"It could have!"

"Richard, I was a mess. You know I was a mess back then. We would have been terrible to each other."

"Well, all things considered, Becky and I didn't do too stellar ourselves."

"I fail to see how that's my fault."

"If you'd given me a chance-"

"What, Richard? What would have happened? You would have saved me from my despair? We would have cured each other of our bisexuality and lived happily, heteronormatively ever after?"

"Would that have been so bad?"

It's dawning on you just how much Becky fucked him up. Nevertheless, you can't help but roll your eyes at his apparently unresolved issues with his own sexuality. 

"It wouldn't have worked out any better than you and Becky did." 

"Why not?"

"Because there's nothing magic about me- or anyone- that's going to stop you from being attracted to men too. There's not and on/ off switch for that."

"Don't you think I know that?" He asked, and there were tears- actual tears- in his eyes.

You move both of your plates, and wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a hug, and he's crying into your shoulder, shaking in your arms the way you'd let it all go so many years before. 

"You do know it's ok, right?" You ask.

"It doesn't seem ok."

"Why not?"

"Pick a side!"

"Fuck any one who says that."

"I suppose that's what we're known for."

"Um, excuse me?"

"Well, I suppose that's what I'm known for."

"I'll thank you to keep your stereotypes to yourself, you bisexual slut." And you hug him closer and he laughs through the tears, and all of a sudden, you're both kissing. 

It's the most glorious feeling in the world, and you have to stop it because if you feel his tongue slide into your mouth one more time, it will be all over for you- and there's still a long afternoon of filming to get through.

"Richard" you say, placing your hand on his chest. 

"Please, don't stop me now."

"You know I have to."

"I've been thinking about this for years. Please." He confesses, his lips grazing your neck.

"If you've really waited that long, you can wait a few more hours." You tell him, and it's all of your strength to pull yourself away.

He takes a deep breath and looks at you. His eyes are cloudy and his cheeks are flushed and you assume you look just as disheveled. You move a lock of hair off his face and he grabs your hand.

"I can see you tonight?"

"Of course."

"Right after we wrap?"

"If you'd like."

"I would like that very much."

You let him kiss you one more time- and you're seeing stars- it's dizzying and you don't know how you're going to keep your head on straight for the next- very long- afternoon and evening of work ahead.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you wait and you wait and you wait for something, but it doesn't feel like waiting until those last few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just plain smutty. But it's fluffy smut. So that's good, right?
> 
> Also, for the record I set out to write a sweet little "straight" story about these two characters. 
> 
> As you can probably tell- heteronormativity isn't my forte. But here's at least one attempt at a M/F pairing!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Thankfully, there isn't much for you to do- other than refrain from announcing any time the camera department isn't ready to go. And while you want to kick the dishy mini-Richard lead for consistently messing up a line in the last shot of the night, he eventually gets a few takes right and everyone wraps. You keep your distance from Richard, that behind the scenes crew is still unnerving you, and head up to your suite.

In the middle of your shower, there's a knock at the door. 

"I figured you'd give me a few minutes." You say, answering Richard while in nothing but a bathrobe.

"I missed you." He admitted.

"Well, you'll be grateful for your patience if you let me finish my shower." You tell him. 

"Ok." He sits down on the bed. Thats when you notice that he's still in his days clothes.

"No. This won't do." You say. And you pull his jacket off, toss it to the ground, and drag him into the bathroom with you.

He kisses you while you attempt to take off his clothes, and you have to scold him. "Richard, this is hard to do when you're attached to me." 

"Sorry." He says, and pulls away enough to get out of his clothes. You turn the shower back on, and pull him inside with you. 

The second you're both together, he's on you again. You push him into the water and it startles him.

"What was that for?!" He asks and you giggle.

"You're a sweaty mess." You say through more giggles.

"It's been a long day." He says, moving in for another kiss. "And I intend to get sweatier." 

"Intend all you want. I'd prefer to taste your skin, not set dirt." You say, handing him a loofah, which he looks both ridiculous and gorgeous holding.

"You know, It was just a sound stage, I wasn't in any trenches." He says, scrubbing the loofah against your breasts. 

"Why are you so averse to being clean?" You ask, he's abandoned the loofah so he can concentrate his hands on your tits.

"Why are you so averse to my natural dirtiness?" He says, kissing you and leaning his body into yours. The water cascades down your bodies and his erection pressed into your thigh sends chills up your spine.

"You're pretty forward this evening." You tell him.

"I get over confident when a beautiful woman drags me into her shower." And you can't really argue with that. 

You kiss him back, and you know how much you want this- how much you've wanted it for so long. 

In a matter of weeks, any one who's interested will assume you'd already been doing this. So why not indulge? The fact that Richard seemed so eager is just icing on the cake.

But you had been waiting for so long, the last thing you were going to do was waste the years of pent up anticipation by blowing it all on a shower quickie.

You pull away, stepping out of the shower and wrapping your towel back around you. Richard is right behind you, dripping all over you and kissing your neck.

"Towel off first!" You giggle, and he doesn't listen, wrapping his arms around your waist- it's almost as if he's trying to soak you (which he is). 

You run into the other room and he runs after you- still naked, still wet, and you both fall into bed, kissing.

"I'm going to be so annoyed with you afterwards, when I'm freezing and damp." You warn him as his lips graze your neck, searching for the right spot. He moves to your ear and whispers "I promise to keep you warm." As his hand moves up your thigh. 

You move your hand down his chest and stomach, your fingertips trailing down the hair leading to his erection. He lets out a moan on your neck as you wrap your hand around him. 

You marvel at his length and girth as you begin to stroke him, chills running down your back where his hands run down it. He's so big, and so hard, and hard because of you! 

It's like something out of a fantasy- laying here alone with this man as he whispers "I want you so badly." In your ear. 

"I want you too." You admit. 

He gets up and heads to his jacket to pull out a condom.

"No need." You tell him. "I'm on birth control." You tell him when he looks at you quixotically.

"You trust me?" He asks.

"Is there a reason not to?"

"Don't you think I would tell you if there was?"

"Yes." You say. "If you tell me you're safe, and you can trust me, then it's ok."

"Even though you know my past?"

"Richard, sleeping with men doesn't make you inherently dirty."

"I really wish you and I had talked about this years ago. That sort of attitude could have saved me a lot of strife."

"Come back and kiss me." You tell him, and he tosses the condom, and his jacket, back on the floor, and moves his body on top of yours, aligning himself between your legs and kissing your lips softly. You can feel him throbbing, and his heat, but his cock is just too far away to be touching you. So close, yet so far! 

He pushes himself up, and you trace your fingers down his shoulders and arms, it feels like his eyes are piercing right into your soul. You bite your lip, still waiting for his tip to brush against you, but instead, he slides down, kissing your neck, between your breasts, his tongue drawing a line straight down your stomach and lower, until his face is buried in your pussy, his hands running up your sides to rest on your breasts as his tongue laps at your opening then finds a happy place on your clit.

You let out a moan as he swirls his tongue, his fingers alternating between squeezing your breasts and nipples. You are writhing in pleasure within minutes, and you don't know how much longer you can take before you're literally going to beg for him. 

He cautiously slides a finger inside you, and when he's sure you're ready, he slides in a second. Crooking them and continuing to tongue your clit until you're grabbing his hair, and moaning his name as you come on his hand.

When he's sure you're finished, he moves up your body again, he wipes his face on his arm and then presses his lips on yours, there's no space between you two now. You open your legs wider, wrapping your arms around his neck as he slowly enters you. Every inch is exhilarating, you're not exactly sure it's actually happening because it feels too good to be true. 

You arch your back, astounded by the fact that you can take all of him, and one of his hands lands on your hip, gripping tight as he begins to thrust. He moans your name and you reply with his.

"Oh god, please, say it again." He begs, and you oblige. "Oh god, Richard. Don't stop!" And he doesn't. "God, never stop!" You moan. 

"I don't want to." He says, burying his face in your neck, his teeth grazing the skin there as he continues thrusting wildly.

You feel yourself getting close to another orgasm, and you wrap your legs around his, your hands move down his side, resting on his ass, and squeezing, attempting to match his thrusts as he brings you over the edge again. "You have to let me do something for you Richard."

"You are." He says.

"Something else." You say.

"What?"

"Let me ride you." You practically plead.

He eagerly agrees, though the seconds where you are apart are excruciating, you can instantly tell you've made the right decision, his hands rest on your hips as you take him in again and when you have, his fingers dig into your skin as you rock against him. He is finally on the brink, his hands have migrated up your sides and grab your breasts while he thrusts, grunting and moaning something incoherent that might be your name.

You brace yourself as he comes, and afterwards, you fall on his chest, taking a moment to recover by listening to his breath and the sound of his heart slowing down to normal. 

You worry that you're making him uncomfortable, so you roll off him, cuddling up beside him, resting your head on his on his shoulder.

His arm crooks around your back, and he pulls you closer to him to give you a peck on the lips, and then on the forehead. 

There are a lot of things to work out. Is this a one time thing? A fling for the duration of the film? Something else?

You don't know, but just being wrapped in Richard's arms is enough for the time being. Despite the early hour, you feel yourself- and him- drift off to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eventually, labels are useful.

You both wake up, ravenous, at midnight. 

You aren't ready to figure out anything, so you grab the room service menu, and cuddle up while deciding what to order. 

In the morning, you wake up to Richard watching you. "Caught you." you say, smiling. He blushes, then kisses you.

"You want me to sneak out of here and back to mine?" He asks.

You shrug. "What's it matter?" You ask. "Everyone thinks- or is going to think- we're doing much worse."

"You don't think we should sneak around then?"

"I just don't care any more." You say. 

You realize that it's actually true, and there is something freeing about the fact that the inaccurate details of your private life are about to let out for the world to see. 

"Me neither." Richard says.

"Bullshit." You tell him.

"If you don't have to care, why should I?"

"Because a lot more is coming out for you than for me."

There's no denying it. And as an actor, this sort of gossip could be a lot more detrimental to his career than it would be to yours. 

He wraps his arms around you, nuzzling your neck and sending chills down your spine.

"You'll be there to help me through, yeah?"

"If that's what you want." You tell him.

He laughs and pulls back to look you in the eye. "Of course that's what I want. Isn't it what you want?" His own eyes are clear and that perfect shade of blue and you want so badly to say "yes" to him. But the truth is, you don't know exactly what you want. 

There is no question that you care for him. And it seemed very possible that he cares for you. 

But there are parts of Richard you don't understand, things he struggles with that shouldn't be a struggle, and a whole lot of baggage that looked mighty heavy when you combine it with yours. 

"Maybe." You tell him. 

"Just maybe?" He asks, and you can see the hurt in his eyes. 

"Probably." You say, and it's not enough, but you're not a good actress and don't feel like lying any more. If this is going to work out, he's going to have to struggle through it with your doubts.

"I'm going change your mind." He says. 

"And how are you planning on doing that?" You ask him, and an evil grin washes over his face as he moves in to kiss you again. His phone rings just as his lips graze yours, and you tell him to get it. 

"No. I'm busy."

"There will be time later."

"There's time now."

"It could be work."

"And I'm in charge, so it can wait."

You peck him on the lips.

"So can I."

He turns to the phone and answers it. 

Of course it's important and has to be solved before breakfast- which he asks you to join him for while he pulls on his jeans.

You thank him, but decline.

"Why not?" He whines. And he's cute when he whines.

"You're gonna be busy all through breakfast, and I'm not going to eat more than two bites of anything anyways. We'll see each other on set in a few hours."

He kisses you- at first a peck, but then deeper. You nearly have to push him to cool him down- any more and you'll have to pull him back into bed.

"Just a few hours?" He makes you promise before he'll leave, and you do.

When he does leave, you curl up in your blanket, excitement washing over you at the prospect of seeing Richard again so soon.

\----------------  
"What are we?"

"Hungry?" You answer.

"We just had dinner."

"Then horny?"

Richard laughs. You're literally sitting in his lap. The last few weeks have been a blast. Richard is not shy about PDA- which is out of character for both of you, but there is something intoxicating about his skin- and apparently yours as well, and you both find yourselves waiting for the breaks in the day so you can simply hold hands, hug, and occasionally steal a few kisses. 

As open as you're both being, the label conversation hasn't been high priority. Until tonight, apparently. 

"Does it matter what we are?" You ask him.

"I think they're gonna ask me about it on the next behind the scenes q and a tomorrow."

"And you want to answer them?"

"I'm not opposed to answering."

"You aren't?!" You're shocked. A couple public kisses is one thing, but the Richard you knew hadn't exactly been the most forthcoming with private life details in his past. 

Eventually, he and Becky had confirmed their relationship- but that had been after numerous consecutive and very public outings. 

And before that, you couldn't remember the last time he'd been linked to any one. 

Then it hit you, the person he had been dating before had been a man, and he had admitted that he wasn't exactly comfortable divulging those relationships with the public. 

You couldn't help but wonder if his curiosity over the label for the two of you had anything to do with the looming publication date for Becky's book.

"What do you want to tell them?" You ask.

"I'd like to tell them you're my girlfriend."

"Am I?"

"I want you to be. You never seem to give me a direct answer."

"It's a bit soon, don't you think?"

"We've known each other for years."

"Yeah, but we've only been fucking for a few weeks."

"You put things so poetically."

"You're the romantic, Rich." 

"So what's that make you?"

"Pragmatic?"

"Then give it to me straight." You can't help but laugh, but he continues "are you my girlfriend?"

"What are the rules here?"

"On being my girlfriend?"

"Yeah. Are we exclusive? Are we going to see each other after this is over? How serious does the term "girlfriend" make it?"

"I would prefer if we were exclusive- but, given our histories, I understand if you have objections to that."

"What's the point of putting a name on it if you're not? We can fuck as friends all you want. But if we're boyfriend and girlfriend, I'd rather we were exclusive."

"So then, we're exclusive?"

"Unless you have any objections to it."

"None I can think of. Do you?"

"Not at the moment."

"So then if any one tries to buy you a drink, I can sock them one?" He teases. 

"I think I'm well past the days when any one will be trying to buy me a drink."

Richard rolls his eyes at you.

"I've got nearly two decades on you- why do you always act like you're so old?"

"First off, not even 15 years- so nice try sir. But women get old faster. I'll be wearing orthopedic shoes and dentures by tomorrow."

"You will not."

"Oh yeah. Before you go admitting to dating me, make sure to picture how embarrassed you're going to feel when I'm pushing my walker down the red carpet, trying to keep up with you."

He laughs. "Ok, crone. I'll just carry you to the premiere."

"I'm going to hold you to that... Boyfriend."

"Good. I hope you do, girlfriend." He says, before swinging in for a deep kiss that you have to admit gives you the want fuzzies. Maybe there is something to this romantic stuff.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are going well after a few months of dating. But will a visitor from Richard's past change that?

When you dropped your keys on the table by the door, you noticed the extra pair of extra large shoes standing beside Richard's, but you were in the middle of a conversation with yourself and it didn't register that some one else was there until you walked into your living-room and saw him. You accidentally drop your purse.

"Hi, Lee." You say. And he smiles and says hello back.

It's not every day that your boyfriend's ex stops by, but apparently today was an exception. 

"I thought you were in New York." You said. 

"I am. I'm just out here for a few days for business and thought I'd pop by."

Richard and Lee were still friends, and while there was a part off you that was nervous about that, you had to admit that it was hard to imagine how any one would not want to be friends with Lee. 

While you could sense a little uneasiness towards you, the two of you had formed a friendship as well, even if it was a little strained on the topic of Richard.

You and Richard had been dating officially for 6 months, and while moving in together was something you'd been talking about, there were problems with working out how that could happen. 

Richard's adopted city was New York. It made sense to him in a way LA just didn't. But LA was where you'd built your livelihood, and there was no way you were giving that up for a relationship that was still so new.

You were weary of the long distance between the two of you- and Lee living in the same state when you were a nearly 4 hour flight away most of the time would occasionally cause you stress. You were able to surpress the urge to fly over unexpectedly just to ensure there were no unauthorized sleepovers happening, but there were more than one middle of the night phone calls "just because."

You could usually mask what those check up calls really were by initiating phone sex, but it was becoming obvious to Richard that you really were hoping that he was getting ready to make the move out to LA on a more permanent basis.

And you knew it wasn't healthy to be living with so much unease. Richard had done nothing specifically to you, had been honest and patient with your nerves, was even sympathetic. You knew you couldn't judge some one by their past. Yet the lack of confidence still lingered.

It didn't help that Lee was positively gorgeous and charming. You weren't exactly sure if he was laying on southern boy charms intentionally, or if he was simply naturally sweet. But he oozed sex appeal like it was on sale, and if you were completely honest, you weren't sure if you would be able to resist, if you and he were ever left in a room alone and he turned those pretty eyes on you. 

"Please. Pop away." You tell him, leaving your bag where it dropped and walking into the kitchen to grab a glass of the already uncorked wine Richard left on the counter.

"Do you guys want dinner? Or did you already have plans?" You say, scanning your cupboard to see if you had anything palatable that could be made for three, instead of two.

"We could order in." Lee said, and you turned around and there he was. "My treat." He offered.

"If you want, we can all go out. I've barely had any of this- I can drive" you say, putting down your wine glass.

"Yeah. The three of us, out on the town. I'm sure Richard would love that." He responded.

He had a point. While Richard had made an official statement about your relationship- you were right, he had never done that before- even with Becky- the book had made things complicated, and Richard, being a very private man, was not enjoying his newfound notoriety. 

Lee hadn't particularly enjoyed being dragged into the drama either- though you had on more than one occasion reminded them that they had made the bed they were both in. 

It was much easier for them to blame Becky for all the extra attention when you weren't around- needlessly pointing out the fact that there were no innocent victims in this situation. 

You tried to believe that complaining about Becky being a bitch was what happened when the two of them were spending time together. That was something you could stomach. They were going through something you'd never truly understand- being outed before you felt ready, and it being a very public and graphic outing at that.

Living openly had been part of who you were, and you were happy that Richard no longer could hide, because it would have put more stress on your relationship- which was already stressful enough. 

But you knew there was a difference between being a below the line bisexual craftswoman, and being an A level male movie star. 

This wasn't the 1950's when Marlon Brando could do whatever (or whoever) he wanted and it would be hushed up. There were too many websites and paps and interested parties vying to make a big deal out of this. 

And while it scared the hell out of you that your boyfriend and his ex were spending so much time together, you couldn't stand to be in the way of something that was helping them both get through what you could only imagine was an incredibly stressful experience.

"Good point. So, order in it is- Richard? What do you think?"

"He's on a call in your bedroom."

"Right. Well, I guess that means we get to choose." You pull out your phone.

"LAbite or GrubHub?"

"Grub Hub is cheaper." You roll your eyes. Yes, delivery was a few dollars cheaper on grub hub, but you had more options on LA bite, and you would never understand the frugality that these two shared, especially considering that both Richard and Lee made an exorbitant amount more than you. 

"Negligible." You told him.

"I'm paying, so I get to choose." He says.

"Oh, is that the rules?" You ask.

"Yes."

"I already know what you're going to choose. Nachos and hot dogs or barbecue. And it's not fair, Lee. I always end up having to get a salad."

"It's not my fault you're a vegetarian! That's what you eat!"

"I eat other things!"

"Well then, what do you want?"

"How about Indian?"

"Come on. Have Indian when I'm not here."

"Let's have Richard be our tie breaker."

"That's cheating. You know he'll just pick your side."

You smile. "Maybe, maybe not."

"Yeah, the Englishman won't want curry. Sure. Let me bribe you."

"Well, you're welcome to try. But I don't think you have anything I want." You tease him.

"Well, if that doesn't bruise a man's ego, I don't know what will... But let me try anyways." 

He walks to his luggage- which you hadn't noticed was sitting under your kitchen table- opens the bigger bag and pulls out a jar of Nutella. 

"Lee, do you really think I can be bought with a jar of coco and hazelnuts?"

He holds up a finger- asking you to wait- then unscrews the top and pulls out a baggie (which looks absolutely disgusting) the second he opens it, the pungent aroma permeates the room.

"That is some dank- ass weed." You tell him. "Why the hell would you bother?"

"Home grown. Consider it a housewarming gift."

"I thought it was a bribe so you get to pick dinner."

"That too."

"What do you mean housewarming gift?"

"You Stupid Git!" Richard curses (well, sort of) at Lee as he walks into the kitchen. "I hadn't told her yet!"

"What the hell, Rich?! You expect me to keep a secret?" 

"Apparently not!"

"Ok. What's going on?" You ask. Richard turns to you.

"I'm moving out here."

You jump up and down, then wrap your arms around him and give him a kiss. "When?"

"Next month. If you want me to, that is."

"Of course I do!" You tell him, kissing him a bit more forcefully. Lee clears his throat, and you unwrap yourself from Richard. 

He hands you the jar of Nutella, complete with weed. 

"What are you waiting for? We gotta roll this shit up and celebrate!" You say. 

"Joints are wasteful, where's your bong?"

"For fucks sake, farmer John, give the lady a joint if she wants one." 

Richard says and you pull some papers and a grinder out of a drawer and hand it to Lee. You're a hard minded business owner and no-nonsense woman by day, but if you're a princess about one thing- you never roll your own joints. 

"I'm ordering nachos for all of us." He says while he rolls out more joints than you could possibly smoke.

"No steak on mine."

"Steak on the side." Richard says "He's paying for it regardless, might as well get it for later." And you roll your eyes and light up. These boys are weird, but you're too happy to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's impossible for me to not write Lee into a story.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things with Lee take a surprising turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Probably should have put this in the last chapter- warning for drug use.
> 
> Well, it's weed, so it's not like a *real* Drug.
> 
> I never know if you have to warn for that. Like, do you warn when adults drink? Because it's basically the same thing.
> 
> This is also a smutty chapter.

The three of you have decided to eat dinner on the balcony so you can pretend that you can see anything other than light pollution in the sky. 

The night air is cool. The copious amounts of blankets you'd put down for your picnic were unnecessary, but now that the boxes from the food were discarded- unceremoniously kicked to one corner- those blankets did serve as a wonderfully comfortable place to lay down and share another joint. 

"I know I'm supposed to be happy for the two of you, but I hope you realize what an imposition this is for me." Lee jokes. 

He's got his head next to yours, resting on Richard's stomach, as he passes the joint to you. You take a hit. 

"Oh, poor, poor pitiful Lee." You shoot back at him, and then hand off the joint to Richard, who is content to smoke in silence, listening to the two of you play-fight over him.

"Yeah. It's true. You're basically stealing my only friend."

"You've got plenty of friends in New York. And it's not like I won't be back all the time." Richard tells him.

"No. Once you leave, you're banished from the land. Never to return." You tell him.

"We don't want your west coast germs contaminating everything." Lee plays along.

"Because New York is so pristine."

"At least we don't have measles."

"Hey. That is Orange County. You apologize to my city, right now, Lee."

"I'm sorry, LA." He says, taking the joint from Richard- who's been hogging it. "You must be the only person in the world who actually wants to live here." He tells you. 

"I'm pretty sure about 8 million people disagree with you." You crawl up Richard's side, and plant a big kiss on his lips. "Eight million and one."

Lee groaned. "You guys. This isn't fair. I'm trying to tell you how much I'm going to miss you, and you're blowing me off to make out."

You move back down to Richard's stomach. "Shut up, Lee." You say, before pressing your lips to his. He's caught off guard, but recovers quickly and pulls you in deeper. It feels even more fantastic when you glance up at Richard and see how aroused he looks.

You pull away and kiss up Richard's side, then chest, then neck. 

Lee follows suit, and you're both kissing an ear. Richard moves his head to kiss you, and as he does, you move your hand down his stomach to his crotch- but when you get there, Lee's hand is already unbuckling Richard's belt.

Presumptuous little brat! You almost want to give him shit for it, but then, if you hadn't seen Richard's cock in eons, (and you presume this is exactly the predicament Lee is in) you had a feeling you'd be pretty eager to take the chance if the opportunity arose, too. 

So you move your hand under his shirt instead, coaxing lines of gooseflesh onto his stomach under your fingertips as you watched Lee expertly pulling off Richard's pants.

When the two of you have stripped him to his knickers, Richard stops kissing you.

"Perhaps this would be better suited in the bedroom?" He asks.

"I didn't think northerners got cold so quickly." Lee teases him. 

"Let's pull off your knickers and see how well you like it out here." Richard retorts. You have to admit, between the wine and the weed and the way Richard's hand feels on your breast, you like the way this is going.

Lee calls Richard's bluff, standing up and sliding out of his jeans and boxers, then tossing off his shirt.

"Feels fine to me." He says, and you take a second to marvel, because he truly is six feet five inches of gorgeous. 

But you don't waste too much time gawking, because you've reached the point of inebriation where you're uninhibited enough to take wild chances with out over analyzing the consequences, and you straddle Richard so you can get closer to Lee's drooling cock, which you gobble up with enthusiasm. 

He lets out a shocked moan, then settles his hands on your head, wrapping locks of your hair around his long fingers, but letting you control the rhythm and force of the blow job.

"How'd you pick Becky over this?" He asks Richard, who is feverishly attempting to pull off your pants- which is incredibly hard while you're sitting on him.

"I'll thank you not to bring up the past at a moment like this." He retorts.

You give him an extra delicious grind- the heat between the two of you is creating a delicious ache inside you. 

"Let me take you both to bed. Now." When he begs, his voice gets lower, the northern accent more pronounced in that husky octave. It's delicious. Lee's delicious, everything is delicious right now, and you pull off Lee with a "pop!" As Richard stands up, carrying you to the bedroom.

Never have you felt smarter about purchasing the king sized bed that takes up so much space in your bedroom. 

If you were in your right mind, you would probably laugh about the fact that, less than a year ago, you didn't know if anyone would ever share this bed with you again. And now, your cup overfloweth. What a difference a little time can make!

As soon as you're on the bed, Richard Is all over you, frantically tugging off your jeans and panties while licking one of your nipples. You motion for Lee to come over, and he does, welcoming your hands wrapped around his cock.

Richard is achingly hard against your thigh and you're dripping with anticipation, but there's something you really want to see first, and you're in the position to ask, so you do.

"Lee, kiss Richard." And he lowers himself to Richard's level, puts his hand on the back of Richard's neck, and pulls him in for a white-hot lip lock that gets you melting and squirming against Richard's cock, which was throbbing wonderfully against your clit. 

You wanted him so badly, but you were amazed at how you were feeling absolutely no jealousy over watching him kiss his naked ex while literally on top of you. 

There was no doubt in your mind that Richard was intensely attracted to Lee. But, so were you. 

And while seeing him unexpectedly sitting in your living room just a few hours before had instantly turned your stomach with fears that he was coming to replace you- right now, with his cock in your hand and his tongue down your boyfriend's throat, you didn't feel any need to worry.

He was a pleasure- not a threat. You weren't sure how to process the feeling, so you filed it away to further analyze when you were less drigh*.

Richard being attracted to Lee didn't seem to take away from his attraction to you- definitely not, as he finally slid inside you, still kissing Lee passionately. 

You let go of Lee's cock as a thrill rushed down your spine and you had to yell out. When it ebbed, you found your words again.

"Lee, there are condoms and lube in my nightstand." He gets up, and looks at you devilishly. 

"You prepared for me, huh?"

"It's a modern world, anal's on the table for everyone, dear. Not just you."

"Thank god." He says, sliding a condom over his cock like the expert you know he must be. 

He hovers behind Richard, who is concentrating all his attention on the nipple held in place between his teeth, but it falls out of his mouth as Lee starts kissing the sweet spot on Richard's neck. He whispers "some things never change." Into his ear as he slides a lubed finger inside Richard's hole. 

Richard let's out a moan on your neck, and looks at you with grateful eyes. Lee slowly slides in another finger, gently working him open as Richard starts to mimic the pace that Mr. Pace is setting. 

It's slower than you're used to, there's something less anxious and more deliberate, and you think you could get used to this.

When Lee finally enters him, not with force, but with steady, relaxing ease, Richard kisses you passionately. It's a sensation he didn't realize he's wanted, and more than he ever would have asked of you. 

Lee's thrusts guide all three of you, and while you're barely touching him, the connection between the two of you is still there. 

That he knows what he's doing is obvious, and soothing. You wrap your arms around Richard, and your legs, as much as possible, around both of them. For a brief period, Lee's hands move from Richard's hips to your sides, his fingertips grazing the bottom of your breasts and teasing you into gyrating differently on Richard's cock, sending a rush through all three of you.

You have no idea how he does it, but this man is playing both you and Richard like well tuned instruments, and it's heavenly. 

It's not just heavenly, it's orgasmic. Richard buries his head in your neck as you careen over the edge of pleasure, followed almost immediately by Richard. Lee finishes last, but not much after the two of you. 

He collapses next to you, and Richard rolls on the other side. Lee kisses you, sweetly, and moves in closer. Richard wraps his arm around your waist and nuzzles the back of your neck.

A part of you feels like it's only fair to let the boys- with their history, enjoy cuddling each other. But you turn that part of your brain off and slowly drift to sleep, wrapped in their warm embraces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *drigh= drunk+high. I would highly recommend it. Though personally, I think beer + weed go better together. You Should use whatever your favourite alcohol of choice is.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast the morning after is always interesting.

When you wake up, there are eggs and sausages frying- the smells and scents are wafting into the bedroom, and you follow the soft giggles of satisfied grown men acting like children to your kitchen. 

Richard is in the robe he'd left at your place months ago, and Lee is cooking eggs bare assed, save for an ironically purchased "kiss the cook" apron.

"I didn't know I had eggs." You said.

"I picked them up the other night." Richard informs you.

"My sausage?" You ask.

"Yes. Unfortunately." Lee says.

"Awe, poor baby has to eat vegetarian." You pet his unshaven face, he plays along, giving you a pout.

"Tastes like moldy cardboard." He whines. It had been so long since you'd tasted actual sausage that the vegetarian alternative tasted like the real thing to you, but in a way, you felt bad for the giant puppy, who wasn't used to your diet. 

So instead of talking about what actual sausage was made of- like the obnoxious stereotype of a vegetarian you could sometimes be- you simply gave him another pat on that deliciously chubby cheek and said "one fourth the calories." To which he replied "And one millionth the taste."

Richard laughed. "You two are a riot."

"Maybe we should knock together a routine." Lee jokes, and starts in singing "hello my baby, hello my darling,"

"Hello my rag time gaaaaaal." You finish.

"That was my line." He tells you.

"Your eggs are burning." You reply, and he turns back to stir them.

You walk over to Richard. He wraps his arms around you and you attempt to give him a "I haven't brushed my teeth yet" closed mouth kiss, which he blatantly ignores, opting for a real lipsmacker. 

"Get a room." Lee teases as he tosses the eggs into a serving bowl.

"You gonna join us again if we do?" You ask, and your stomach does flips, because you're not exactly sure what answer you want.

Lee leans in and smiles devilishly. "If that's an invitation, I happily accept."  
And as soon as you hear it, you know it's the right answer.

"Breakfast in bed?" You ask Richard. Before he can answer, you've grabbed the plate of sausage and toast and repeat. "Yeah, breakfast in bed."

Richard and Lee exchange a puzzled look, but smile as they gather the eggs and cutlery and follow you back to the bedroom.  
\--------------


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years later

The alarm clock chimed, and you groaned.

"Get up." Richard popped his head back into the room. He was always the more chipper one in the morning- it was annoying. 

You attributed it to the fact that he somehow always woke up 2 hours earlier than he had to, and by the time you begrudgingly had to get up, his brain had already had time to clear the fogginess of sleep.

"Why don't you come back to bed?" you hear Lee ask under the pillow shielding his eyes from the harsh light Richard had just uncaringly flicked on. You cuddle closer to Lee as he takes off the pillow and you both direct your best pouty faces towards Richard.

"Yeah. Come back to bed." You implore him. He gives you both one of those panty drenching smiles but doesn't budge.

"Today is a very important day, and I'll not have the two of you getting us off schedule."

You groan. "Let's skip it. After all, it's just the Emmys."

"For shame! You worked hard, and we're going to celebrate your victory!"

"I'm not going to win- and my category isn't even going to be televised. Who cares?"

"You are going to win. But we can celebrate here, at home. Right now. as soon as Richard turns off the lights and comes back to bed."

The show you'd been working on for the past two seasons was nominated for a lot of awards, but this year, your department- the department you were heading now- was nominated. 

It would have felt like a much bigger deal if your boyfriends hadn't each snagged golden globes last year.

"Breakfast isn't going to cook itself. Get your gorgeous lazy bones out of bed and come help me." Richard said, and left, with out turning off the light. 

"If today was really such a big deal, you'd make me breakfast in bed!" You shouted down the hall.

"I have no problem making you breakfast in bed, darling."  
You pump your fist in the air, letting out a quick "Yes!" That is so incredibly dorky that Lee can't help but laugh.

Since he officially moved in last year, the two of you had been bad influences on each other when it came to indulging in lazy mornings. 

"Lee, come help me!" Richard hollered. And you laughed as he got out of bed and pulled on sweats.

"You owe me." He said.

"I owe you nothing." You say as he leaves, and you settle back into the exact middle of the bed, with all the pillows you can grab.

\--------------  
Dressing up is not something you excel at. You always feel like a fraud in an expensive dress- and for tonight you've rented the dress you're wearing because it's not worth keeping in your closet. 

Though there is some disagreement from Lee and Richard when they see it on you.

"You should keep that." Lee tells you. You laugh.

"Because I have so many places to wear it."

"With a dress like that, we'll look for excuses to take you out." Richard says. You roll your eyes. 

It's an open secret that the three of you are dating, but still scandalous enough to get attention. Depending on where Richard or Lee is in any given project the chances of an uninterrupted night on the town are slim to none. And since all three of you tend to be happy homebodies, it wasn't usually worth the risk of getting spotted, making the idea of creating room in your wardrobe for too many fancy dresses seem silly.

"Are you saying you don't take me out now because I can't keep up with the fashions?" You ask. Richard blushes, but Lee plays along.

"Well, it wouldn't kill you to pick up a magazine every once in a while."

You grab a magazine from Richard's side of the bed and hold it like it was infected. "Like this?" You say.

"Yeah, but you know, it probably wouldn't hurt if you actually opened it." You roll it up and playfully knock him on the leg with it. 

"Who wouldn't it hurt?" You ask. Lee wails, over-dramatically.

"Will you two stop acting like children?" Richard scolds- he's long since gotten bored of you and Lee's banter- and has moved on to struggling with his bow tie. 

Lee gets up and ties Richard's tie, kissing him on the tip of the nose when he's finished. "No."

You're not looking forward to figuring out your hair, but you've spent as much time as possible procrastinating, if you don't figure it out now, you really will risk being late to the pre-party you're contractually obligated to show up at, so you trudge into the bathroom, and have to admit, the dress actually did look very good on you. If only you could figure out what to do with the long hair you still hadn't given up on.

Richard walks in while you're struggling and kisses your exposed neck. You smile at him in the mirror and he pulls out a large jewelry box.

"What's this for?"

"For you, yeh stupid Git." He says. 

"You really have a way with words of endearment." You tell him, taking the box.

"You love me." He reminds. And then you've got the box open and you're a little breathless.

It's- you don't know what it is other than beautiful. Diamonds and white gold- like a tennis bracelet but too big- it's a necklace. You take it out of the box.

"Where'd you rent this from?" You ask.

"It's not a rental!" Lee says as he walks into the room.

"What is it?"

"It's for you, you stupid Git!" He imitates Richard's accent.

"You guys did this for me?" They nod.

"Why?"

"Because,". Richard starts while clasping the necklace on you. "We want you to know that no matter what happens tonight, you're a winner."

You don't need to look in the mirror, you don't need an expensive necklace, and you certainly don't need an Emmy. You look at Lee and Richard, take their hands, and hold back tears. 

"I know." You say, and then pull them both in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that story was the longest 3 weeks of my life!
> 
> I'm looking forward to getting back to regular RichLee. And judging by the completely lack of comments and low view count, there doesn't seem to much of a market for my OFCs or polyamorous threesomes that live happily ever after.
> 
> Maybe I'm tagging it wrong (or maybe it's just poorly written!)
> 
> Oh well. For any one whose DID make it through, I hope it was worth the ride for you!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
